


Swirls of Blue

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-17
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-19 16:45:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1476847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Molly's thinking about getting a tattoo. Will Sherlock approve, and what will his response be? One-shot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swirls of Blue

Molly sat on the bed, looking through pictures on her laptop. She hummed quietly to herself, and smiled when she heard the shower water stop in the next room. A moment later, Sherlock emerged with a towel wrapped around his waist. She eyed him hungrily.

"Mmm," she purred. He chuckled, but shook his head.

"Not now, love. You're working the graveyard shift tonight, and I have a case."

She pouted as Sherlock crossed the room, and gently lifted her chin to meet his lips. Eagerly, Molly ran her hands through his hair, entwining her fingers in his wet raven locks. She tried pulling him down on top of her, but he pulled away.

Chuckling at her whine that followed, he kissed her forehead. "No. Later," he promised.

He continued to get changed, and she turned her attention back to her computer. "What are you looking at?"

Molly hesitated, and then blushed. "Oh, I, um…What are your thoughts on tattoos?"

Her husband stopped what he was doing and looked at her. "I've never really given it any thought. Why?"

"Well, um, I've autopsied people with some really interesting and sometimes beautiful pieces of body art, and I thought it might be something worth looking into."

Sherlock thought for a moment, then responded. "I think that you should think of the hazards, such as unclean needles, and ink poisoning. That being said, if you want one, I am in no position to oppose. Did you have anything specific mind?"

"A flower or something," she mumbled, turning her attention back to the computer screen.

****

The pathologist buttoned up her lab coat, and pulled her hair into a messy bun. She had managed to snag a day shift at St. Barts; Sherlock had just finished up his case, and would be home for the first time in almost a week. Just then Mary popped her head in. She looked expectantly at Molly.

"So," she asked with a sly smile. "Did you get it?"

Molly looked at her friend and colleague, and gave a coy smile. "Yup."

"Has the hubby seen it yet?"

She chuckled. "No, Sherlock hasn't seen it yet. I didn't even tell him that I scheduled an appointment."

"Can I see?" Mary pranced up to Molly, who had pulled out her phone to show Mary a picture of it.

"Oh Molls, that's gorgeous! Sherlock's gonna love it!"

****

Walking into her flat, Molly saw Sherlock's coat and scarf hanging on the rack, signifying that he was already home. She quickly deposited her purse and hung up her jacket. She peeled off her shirt, revealing a tank-top underneath.

Walking into the bedroom, she saw Sherlock bundled in a plush white duvet, eyes closed. Molly smiled to herself; she'd only ever seen him sleep right after he finished a case. He'd power sleep for about seven hours, and then he'd be good for a couple of days.

Letting him sleep, Molly returned to the living room, and pulled out her phone.

'Do you know what time he came home?'  
-MH-H

'Dropped him off about four hours ago. How'd it go the other day? Mary told me it looks amazing.'  
-JW

Ever since Molly had set Mary and John up on a date, they'd been acting completely different. Mary was a lot more bubbly, and John smiled more often. Three weeks ago, John had informed Molly that he was going to propose to Mary. It's about time, she'd thought. They've been together for two and half years already.

Molly typed a quick It took a while, but it was worth it, attached a picture, and sent it. Setting her phone aside, she quietly snuck back into the bedroom, retrieved her laptop, and settled down on the couch.

She had some reports that had to be finished, and had taken her notes home so she could do them. After two and a half hours, she'd finished six. Deciding that Sherlock would probably want food when he woke up, Molly phoned for Tai. She heard the bedroom door close, and looked up to see her husband wrapped in a sheet, with his hair ruffled and eyes groggy.

"Take away'll be here in twenty minutes, love."

****

Molly watched Sherlock as he ate. It was something she could only observe when he was off of a case, or had just finished one.

"So, how was the case?"

"Dull. It was the jealous lover; it's always the lover." He studied her for a moment. "Where is it?"

"Pardon?

"Your tattoo. It's obvious that you're hiding something, based off of the way that you keep glancing at me and then quickly looking down. You've also been picking at your food for the past fifteen minutes. Considering our conversation last week, the only logical reason could be because you actually got a tattoo. So, where'd you get it?"

"Alright then, Smartass. If you want to know where it is, make good on your promise from last week and find it yourself," Molly said, dragging Sherlock into the bedroom. She pulled him on top of her, and crashed her lips into his. He pulled her tank-top off, and started to unbutton her jeans when she rolled over, leaving him beneath her.

"You are not getting to it that fast, Mister," she scolded. Her lips found his again, and she worked his shirt off of him. For several minutes they teased each other, Molly planting kissed down his stomach before returning to his lips, causing Sherlock to moan. In return, he would run his hand through Molly's hair and down her bare back, kneading her lower back, which he knew she loved.

After several failed attempts at getting her pants off, she finally allowed him to. Unbuttoning her jeans all the way, he slid them off of her. His eyes quickly scanned over her body, and his breath hitched when he saw it.

Sitting on her right hip was a butterfly. It had a thick black outline, with watercolor-esque inking. Swirls of blue and green faded in and out of contrast, seemingly dripping from the outline. 

"Well?"

"It's stunning, love," Sherlock responded, before crashing his lips back against hers.


End file.
